amusement of the procession seemed to be, that it brought out all the young ladies into the balconies, and all the young men to look at them.""

This is one of the inevitable results of image-worship; it makes the idea of Deity ridiculous. Rational men despise such an imitation as can be made by the carpenter; the young and foolish make it a sport and a toy.

Idolatry in all shapes is the reigning worship. But it is in the Holy Week that the idols receive their plenitude of honours. On Wednesday in the week, the images of our Lord are dressed up and exhibited for adoration. The custom is, for every person to visit as many churches as possible in the course of the day. Every church is "crammed," and the people who cannot get in kneel at the doors. It is a perpetual, restless bustle during the day. We need not ask how much of the humility, reverence, and devotedness of heart, which belong to true devotion, were in all that squeezing, hurrying, and rushing from church to church. Then came, in the evening, the grand processions-showy affairs. In one of those, four horsemen led the way; then followed a military band; then men with torches; then a long double line of men with candles; then more men with torches; then priests chaunting; then an image of our Lord bearing his cross,-finishing the whole with a troop of soldiers and music.

An especial feature of this awful absurdity was the appearance of the "Nazarenes." Those are a brotherhood whose whole zeal is applied to "getting up" processions. One of those men headed the pageant, and another walked before the image. They were robed in dark red velvet, with gilt crowns of thorns, and veiled faces, and ringing large bells, by which they moved and halted the whole line. Other Nazarenes carried the image. When the bell rang, the torches were lowered to make them burn dimly, and clouds of incense rose; when it rang again, the torches were raised, and burned brightly.

The lady writer, a tender Protestant, silily says: "I do not think that any one, with the feelings of the day, could have looked at the image without reverence and love." We

quote the sentence, only to mark its folly. If the Almighty, in the most solemn display of His presence ever given to man-the descent on Sinaihas forbidden the making of an image, not only of Himself, but of anything in heaven or earth, for worship of any kind; if He has declared that such worship is equivalent to hating Him; and if He has ordered that no toleration of variety of opinion on the subject, or scepticism whatever, should be permitted to the Jew-the Jewish idolator being put to death as a heathen and a rebel-how can man suffer himself to conceive that this guilty, irreverent, and irrational practice is not equally forbidden to the Christian, or that its performance does not virtually exclude man from Christianity, as much as once it would have excluded him from Judaism? If the Ten Commandments are the universal law of duty to God and man, under what pretext can this direct insult to the Second Commandment be sustained? The pretext of images being merely for the purpose of reviving the idea of Deity, finds no allowance in the Decalogue. All images for worship of any kind are forbidden. The pretext that the Papist does not worship the wooden block before him, is answered at once by the sight of the worship. What are incense, genuflections, and bowings down to an image, but image-worship? If the Deity himself stood upon the altar, what more palpable worship could be offered to him?

Yet, at this moment, in Protestant England and Wales, the number of Popish places for image-worship has grown, from 60 at the beginning of the century, to no less than ten times the number-610! Even in Protestant Scotland, the number of chapels is already 98, besides 40 stations at which mass is performed-the actual number of Popish chapels in Great Britain being 708to say nothing of Popish colleges, which in England are 10-of monasteries, which are 17-and of convents, which are 62; and under all those seven hundred roofs, men and women bow down to images! not this enough to make a Christian clergy exclaim with the prophet,"Oh that mine eyes were fountains of tears"?

Is

The pretext of the "new school" of Protestantism, that since the Incarnation, images of Christ are justifiable, is answered by St Paul: "Though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now know we him no more;" his presence and his worship being altogether spiritual. He also pronounces image-worship "the worship of demons." But who ever made an image of Christ in his lifetime? or which of the apostles ever made an image of him after his death? Who ever heard of any Christian image before the fourth century, when the Church was palpably falling into corruption? Yet Protestant Britain has at this hour 708 chapels in which incense is offered images. Protestantism abhors persecution; but has it not the weapons of Scripture, of reasoning, and of common sense, to beat down this dangerous and desperate abomination? Shall all be silence ?-shall the clergy of both England and Scotland look on without a feeling of solemn responsibility for themselves, and of Christian terror for their fellow-men, thus rushing by tens of thousands to spiritual ruin?

to

The general consequence in Spain is described as impurity of manners. "The friars, from all that I can learn, had lost all respect; nay, much worse, had done the greatest injury to religion. A Spanish gentleman said to me, the other day, when I spoke of them: 'They make vows of chastity, yet they were not chaste; vows of poverty, yet they were avaricious; vows of humility, and they were proud; and they have deeply injured the faith of a religious people.' The friars, it is to be observed, always commenced with a prodigious pretence of sanctity and self-denial. But the body of the ecclesiastics is pretty much of the same calibre. Even now the character and tone of the priests is far from standing high."

Passion-week is, of course, full of ceremonial: priests and people are equally busy. On Good Friday

"The passion from St John was sung; then followed the adoration of the cross. A veiled cross was taken down from the altar and given to the bishop, who unveiled it, and, standing with his back to the altar, said, 'Ecce lignum crucis; on which the choir answer, 'Ex quo salus mundi pependit.' He then places the

cross below the altar, and adores it; then the canons and priests, two by two, adore it, the choir in the mean time singing.

"Sabado Santo, (Holy Sunday.) We went to the cathedral at half-past eight, to see the blessing of the lights! They three candles on the top of a wreathed had just struck a new light, with which pole were lighted. These were blessed, and from them an immense candle was lighted, which, candlestick and all, is about twenty feet high, and as thick as my waist, standing by the side of the altar, then the lamp upon the high altar. This is not to go out till Easter comes again, but to burn continually.”

Then followed a procession.

"I am glad to have seen all this, but I was heartily tired with it, and persuaded that the mass of even the church-going people do not understand the services to which they go; it is mere spectacle. The whole system is show outside, and decay within.”

But the Virgin is the grand object of worship in Spain. They may paint, and dress, and carry about the image of our Lord, but he passes comparatively unnoticed. His best drapery is unhonoured, his crown of thorns scarcely produces a Viva, while the wooden "Queen of Heaven" is honoured with a roar. Still, in all this exhibition, there is a vulgarity of conception, a sensuous feeling, a constant tendency to lower the idea of a spiritual being. The Virgin, instead of being shown as a majestic and sacred form, with any of the grandeur of countenance, or the mystery of vesture, which the natural imagination would combine with the grandeur and mystery of her supposed supremacy, is represented often "by the most contemptible dolls;" sometimes as a black Moor; and, on high occasions, in the flighty and tinsel costume of an opera-dancer. In other instances, a very disagreeable image exhibits her suffering for the pains of her Son, with a dagger in her breast, and her head on one side, but with a fashionable lace pocket-handkerchief in her hand!" The head has probably been carved from the likeness of a peasant, or of one of those handsome women who are more known than respected.

But we shall now turn to the domestic life of Spain, the Casa de

Pupillos, or account of a Spanish table.

"We consider it superior to the Fonda, (inn or hotel,) but the dinner comes in a queer scrambling way. First is a plain soup, or a dish of rice; then the puchero, (something like a stew ;) then commonly chops, a fowl, a salad floating in oil and water; a pimiento, (a thing of spice ;) perhaps some other odd-looking dish; and then pastres, (the desert,) which is usually rice milk, or a sort of plain custard and preserved quince, with grapes, walnuts,

and roasted chestnuts."

To this bill of fare we do not observe the bacalao, or salted codfish, which, cooked in a variety of ways, is so much used in Spain; nor the use of the tomato, which takes a part in the whole cuisine of the other provinces. The dinner, on the whole, does not argue much for the Spanish taste, and the Englishman, at least, must come home to dine.

The society was miscellaneous, as indeed was to be expected; yet was well conducted, though in ways sufficiently new to John Bull.

"Next to ourselves is a little lively native of Madrid, who is very polite, but speaks faster than even an Andalusian ;

so fast, that even his own countrymen make him repeat. Still he is very friendly, and has lent us a volume of the Semana Pintoresca. [We thus find that the Illustrated News has reached even stagnant Spain.] Then we have Don O. and Don N., all perfectly well bred; but the two former generally prefer dining in smart dressing-gowns and little caps on their heads. Then we have a priest, who was a friar at the Merced, but has been expelled, and has some duties at the Hospital. Then we have another priest; still the dinner is good and quiet."

Some details of the conversation are given, in which the priests have to fight a hard battle for their order.

Popery has produced the effects in Spain which it long since produced in France, every man of any intellectual vigour being an infidel: not that his infidelity is loud and loquacious, as everything was and is in France; but it is sober, sneering, and smiling, as becomes a country in which the times are remembered, when a look brought a man into the jaws of the Inquisition. The Inquisition is no

more, but the grown man has been so long trained in terror that he still is still cautious in speaking of the trembles at the ghost. The Spaniard "Church," but he exhibits his liberty in scoffing at the Scriptures; which, however, not one in two thousand ever reads. They, of course, take the parts which may excite an ignorant objection, and supply an infidel sneer. One questions the probability of the Flood; another, "a merry hairbrained fellow," suggests, whether, as the Chinese do not believe in it, perhaps it was not true. But some of their questions were home-thrusts. Thus, day by day they chatted on the celibacy of the clergy, absurd miracles, for what reason Protestants cannot be saved, &c. celibacy of the clergy was a peculiarly sore point, for it is one of the popular "The experiscandals of Rome.

The

ment of a celibate clergy has here (in Malaga) been attended with the worst results. There are families known to be the children of monks

and priests. Under the weight of this, the whole religious system seems to have broken down."

There is then some reference to the popular disuse of Confession, mainspring of religious life in the which is justly stated to be "the Popish Church; a matter which we cannot discover whether the writer lauds or laments, but which is known to be the great source of disgust and disturbance, of intrigue and corruption, in every church and family where it exists. However, even in this rite, necessary as it is deemed by Rome, the love of mammon interfession" may be had for money. Forvenes, and the "Certificate of Conmerly Confession was required before any man could hold an office under government; but the annoyance of submitting to Confession was easily obviated, the certificate being sold for a peseta (tenpence.)

Preaching in Spain is (in the instance, at least, of popular preaching) a description of future torment-a matter of which man can know nothing, and which substitutes vague terrors for the motives of natural duty-the fear which casteth out love, for the "love which casteth out fear," the great impulse which reigns

66

in the whole revelation of Christianity. But excitement is here the universal object. On the day of the Animas (All-Souls) the writer went to hear a celebrated preacher. The subject was Purgatory, and the church was crowded, chiefly with women. The sermon was "A long prayer for those in the flames of purgatory." First, for all Cardinals, Bishops, and Priests. To which the congregation answered, with a suppressed, but unanimous voice, Requiescant in pace." Then he reminded them of fathers, brothers, wives, husbands, and children suffering still, and partly through their neglect. And you might hear suppressed sobs run through the church, joined with often repeated prayer, Requiescant in pace. But the impression did not last long. "I went out and watched the people leaving the church, and saw them wipe away their tears, and exchange salutations, as light-hearted and as quickly moved either way."

The conversation at table was varied by an officer of the Carabineers, who had been in the Carlist war, and who amused them with anecdotes. "There was a Carlist troop called La Sagrado Compania, (the Sacred Company,) consisting wholly of monks, and commanded by a very fat friar. They were the most undisciplined corps in the army, very bad fighters, but fond of collecting contributions." To some questions about the luckless British Legion, the reply was, "that they were drunken and undisciplined, but desperate fighters, and on one occasion, where they were almost exterminated, they died fighting, (murieran matando.)"

Spain is still the country of Don Quixote. "The students of Salamanca -mostly very poor-form parties, and, during the vacation, wander about the country, asking alms. They have generally one clever fellow with a guitar, who improvises verses, and they are very popular, and collect much." But it seems that one great reason of their popularity is, that their verses are full of double entendre. They live about at different inns and lodging-houses till the Term comes round. Those who are intended for priests do not join those parties.

Salamanca is now scarcely a shadow

VOL. LXXII.—NO. CCCCXLVI.

of its former self. In the fourteenth century it had 14,000 students; in the sixteenth it declined to 7000; in 1846, it had but 400. The French destroyed 13 out of 25 convents, and 20 out of 25 colleges. The university is now almost a desert, and the western portion of the city is a heap of ruins.

Superstition always tends to profanation, and the course, though startling, is natural. The perpetual use of sacred things and terms, which is the necessary habit of superstition, renders them familiar, and the familiarity naturally vulgarises them.

"As we came in, we heard Dolores (the chamber-maid) from the top of the stairs, calling 'Trinidad, Trinidad, Trinidaita,' (Trinity.) The little slipshod girl in the house is named Trinidad; nombre muy bonito, (a very pretty name,) as Dolores says." The Spanish ships of war are similarly called by the most sacred names, which may well shock the ear, in the various uses made of them by the common sailors. Their great threedecker at Trafalgar was La Santissima Trinidad, (the most holy Trinity ;) and we may well conceive the amount of execration and abomination that mingled with this name in a ship of a thousand men, and those men foreigners. The monks have unfortunately left to Protestant England a similar bequest in the names of our colleges, and it is certainly to be regretted that we have to pronounce such phrases as a Fellow of Jesus, or a Master of Trinity! It is true that no profanation is implied; but still the words shock the ear.

Then, too, the doctrine which superstition itself esteems most precious, degenerates into household gabble.

Ave

"One day I heard a characteristic dialogue. Some one rang the bell, and José (the footman) pulled the string to open the latch from upstairs, bawling out,' Quien es?' (who is there?) The answer was, Maria purissima,' (Hail Mary, the most pure ;) to which José bawled again,Sin peccato concebida,' (conceived without sin.) The appeal was from a woman begging." On this habit a note is given from a Tractarian, too characteristic to be omitted. He is accounting for the "facility and variety" of swearing in Popish coun

3 B

tries. "Listen to their conversations, (Popish ;) listen to the conversation of any multitude, or private party; what strange oaths mingle with it-God's heart, and God's eyes, and God's wounds, and God's blood. You cry out, How profane!' Doubtless. But, do you not see that the special profaneness above Protestant oaths lies not in the words, but simply in the speaker, and is the necessary result of that insight into the invisible world which you have not." This is certainly a new theory of cursing and swearing. We must leave its author to reconcile it with the older authority of "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain."

In the midst of all those forms there is some sober unbelief, and a great deal of contemptuous infidelity in Spain. An intelligent person is mentioned, who had been sent abroad for his education. On his return he felt disgust at the heartless ceremonies of his Church. "He says, that the Church orders confession, but that he cannot and will not confess to such priests. He has become acquainted with some good English people, and studied the Testament and the Prayerbook. Finding no rest or peace in his own Church, he longs to come to ours. He wishes to come to the English chapel. Of course it will not be allowed."

The lighter conversations were of the prettiness of the nuns, to whom one of the priests was confessor. "One day some one pointed to the hospital chaplain, and said, 'The padre is so rich, with the money he got for the pictures sent out of his convent.' (Probably a scoff.) This led to a conversation on the plunder of the churches, and the breaking up of the retables, (a sort of reredos in the altars,) which were sold for the gold. On being asked if the retables in Malaga had been taken: 'Not one,' said a priest; and the reason was, that they were told that, if any touched them, the gold would turn to steel, and the steel to blood.""A tolerable specimen of the benefit of a lie.

At another time a priest was narrating a miracle of an image. One of the Spaniards came in, and exclaimed, "Do you believe all that nonsense,

padre?" The priest replied, "It is not an article of faith, and I do not require you to believe it; but it stands on good testimony." ." "Why don't such things happen now?" said the doubter. "And how do you know that they do not?" said the priest. "Because I don't see them," was the rejoinder. Surely here is some chance for the preaching of Christianity. But if preached, it must be at the risk of persecution.

"To-morrow there is to be a great funcion (a celebration) in honour of a very fine image of Christ bearing the Cross. Our friend the monk told us that, if we went, we should hear the whole history of the image, which is a miraculous one. He began telling it himself, but some of the other people came in, and he was obliged to be silent, they make such a mockery of those things. Living in a Spanish house gives me more idea of the extensive spread of infidelity than I bad before. Truth and fable have been so mixed in people's minds, that when they cease to believe fables, the belief of the truth goes too."

one.

And so much the better; for truth half fabulous can do no good to any The mixture of the true with the false only gives plausibility to falsehood. Better to clear the mind of the whole. Break up the system of fabrication, begin to think anew, and make an effort to acquire the truth undefiled.

Some of the obscure portions of Scripture are indebted to the Spanish pulpit for an easy solution. Thus, the name of the penitent malefactor on Calvary had hitherto escaped human knowledge. But the Spaniards are not kept in darkness on that subject, nor on any other that can be elucidated by a legend. This name, as communicated by "the archbishop to Padre Felix," the preacher, was Demas; and the whole affair was this: When the Virgin fled into Egypt, she fell in with a band of robbers, whose captain was named Demas. Though a desperado, he had an eye that told him she was something above the common order. Accordingly, he not only did not plunder her, but escorted her on her way. He was not converted, however, but, living the life of the high-road, he was